Welcome to the South
by JiNgLeBeLls912
Summary: Your mom dragged you out of the comfort of your suburban home out into the boonies of the south. The complete opposite of what you came from. You hate everything about it, until a certain redneck, country loving, cowboy named Alfred F. Jones wiggled into your life. He shows you that there's more to the south than cows and tractors.
1. Chapter 1

"So this is my new home," _you_ mumbled to yourself. Your already foul mood turned worse as you sat on the front porch of your new home. To you it was more like a cottage. Everything about it screamed _Little House On the Prairie._ From the creaking wooden floors, to the horrible floral wallpaper. You thought your mom had a little more class than this, but apparently you were wrong.

"Ma'am where would ya' like this box ta' go?" one of the men asked you. You cringed at his southern drawl, not even bothering to look up.

"By the living room wall please," you sighed. The man gave a sympathetic smile and walked into the house doing as he was told. Truthfully, you didn't expect such a culture shock. Riding into the small backwoods city in the middle of nowhere you noticed that a lot of the people wore either baseball caps or cowboy hats. Their shoe of choice were boots, and most wore jeans even in extreme heat.

_These people are crazy... This whole place is inconvenient! The nearest grocery store is more than five miles away, and the nearest neighbor has to be at least three miles at that._

It was true, most of the available land was used for farming, and cattle. Your mother had enough sense not to buy a house close to a cattle farm, but there was a horse ranch down the road-no, the dirt path, there were no paved roads only red dirt trails. Everything about this place aggravated you, the people were to sugar sweet, there was to much land, and nothing to do but stare at grass.

"(Name) why don't you stop pouting and pick up a box or two?" you mom chirped as she placed a cardboard box on the porch.

"Mom you're sweating," you sneered in disgust. Your mom was a business women who had nothing to do with heat or going outside.

She gave a sheepish smile, "So I am. C'mon (Nickname) it isn't that bad." You groaned and hopped of the porch, your Vans creating a cloud of dust. You started chocking and waving the dust away. You could hear some of the workers chuckle and poke jokes at you. "She won't even last a week here." You glared at them before stomping into the moving van and grabbing a couple of boxes.

After an hour of hauling boxes the living room was no longer empty. The brown boxes created skyscrapers in the available rooms. You rubbed your temples, just thinking about unpacking all of this already had you stressed. You couldn't find your mom anywhere so you found the boxes with your name labeled on it and carried them upstairs to your room. The sound of tape being sliced filled the soundless room. You shuffled through your things, first unpacking your clothes and shoes, then your bedroom decorations. You were halfway through when you heard your mom all for you.

"(Name) come down stairs, the neighbors want to meet you!"

You moved the thin curtain from the window to see your mom waving frantically and an older couple standing beside her. You huffed and made your way down to the front yard. You opened the door and squinted your eyes, the dirt never seemed to settle around here.

"(Name), this is Mr. and Mrs. Jones. They own the ranch down the rode," your mom smiled. It was a genuine smile, not the business smile she usually used when meeting new people.

You looked them up and down, they were both a picture of the south. The lady had on a floral dress with a pair of boots, her gray blonde hair was tied back in a sloppy bun. The man had a flannel plaid shirt tucked into a pair of sun bleached jeans, with a huge gleaming silver belt buckle to match it. You gave a small but polite smile, "Hi, I'm (Name). Nice to meet you."

"Well aren't you just as sweet as peach! How are ya'll likin' your new home?" Mrs. Jones clasped her hands in delight.

"Um... It's nice. A lot of trees and live stock," you tugged at the bottom of your graphic tee nervously. You weren't going to be rude and tell them you hated this God forsaken place.

The man chuckled, "There's a lot more than that 'round here. But it might take a while for a Yankee to realize that." You could see a mysterious sparkle in his blue eyes.

"(Name), they also have a son that's about your age, am I correct?"

"Yes, his name's Alfred! You'll see him 'round the local high school, or you could just come down to the ranch whenever you feel like you need something to do besides countin' clouds," the lady laughed. You gave a nervous smile and laughed along. You didn't want to make friends, you wanted to be left alone and sulk for the rest of your teenage life.

"See? It's not all that bad. Maybe you can get a job to keep you occupied," your mother elbowed you in the arm. You forced yourself not give a shocked look. She was already pressuring you to get a job.

"Why don't y'all come by tonight and have dinner with us!" Mr. Jones clapped his calloused hands together. You were about to object, but your mom was already hugging their necks.

"Thank you! When would be a good time?"

Mrs. Jones returned her hug, "Five o'clock is when we all eat. I hope y'all don't mind fried chicken and collard greens." You gaged a bit at those words. You weren't one for fried things nor vegetables.

"We'll be there." You wanted to smack your moms head and ask her if she's gone crazy. But you just smiled and waved as the two clambered into the dusty red pickup truck.

Before closing the door Mr. Jones tipped his tan cowboy hat, "Welcome to the South."


	2. Chapter 2

You slammed the door making the whole house shake, your face a deep shade of scarlet. "Mom! Have you gone crazy? You can't just go accepting dinner invites from complete strangers!" you fumed. Your mom batted her eyelashes innocently, "They seemed nice. Mrs. Jones even made us a pecan pie!"

You frowned unamused, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "Don't change the subject."

She sighed in defeat, her (e/c) eyes serious, "Listen (Name), today has been a long day and I'm not about to go through the trouble of making dinner," your mother gave you a small smile, "Besides, we need to make some friends around here, and the Jones seem like a good start."

You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand, "Enough (Name). Now go upstairs take a shower and get ready." You blew out an aggravated huff but stomped upstairs. You closed the door to the bathroom and turned on the showerhead. It took a few minutes for the water to get warm before you slipped in. The shower relaxed your tense muscles, but it didn't melt your thoughts away.

_Maybe I wouldn't be here if Dad hadn't died.._

You were twelve when your dad developed cancer. You could still remember it like it was yesterday. He would always act as if he wasn't dying, always smiling with an upbeat attitude. You never saw him weak, more like he wouldn't let you. He never took you to the doctor's with him, he kept the results between him and mom. They never let on whether he was getting better or worse, so it was a constant mystery. But it never stopped you from constantly asking, your father would just ruffle your hair and give you a peck on the cheek saying his famous line, _Everything will be fine Honey Bee._ You believed it for a while, but secretly you had a hunch that it wasn't.

You were right, he only lived two years after he was diagnosed. You remember clutching the hospital sheets and listening to the heart monitor beat slowly fall. You knew it wouldn't be long till he breathed his last breath. Your mom gave him one last trembling kiss before retreating to a chair crying. _Stay strong Honey Bee. I love you. _Then he was gone. You cried for an hour not letting go of his cold hand.

After the funeral you and your mom lived life like nothing happened. The only difference was no one was aloud to call you Honey Bee. You buried that childish nickname with the rest of your fathers memories. You were surprised that you mom allowed the two of you to live in the house for as long as she did. You figured this moment would come soon enough, but never imagined that it would be here of all places.

You shook your head and turned the shower off before stepping onto the cold floor. You wrapped a fluffy towel around your body and shuffled across to your new bedroom. You figured your mother would nag you if you decided on something as casual as jeans. You decided on a plum colored cocktail dress with a pair of classic black heels. You gingerly placed the outfit onto your bed before sitting at your makeup vanity.

You massaged the makeup products onto your face, setting it with a powdery finish. For the eyes you masterly winged them with black liner, and for the lips a light nude color. You took the hot curling wand and laced your (h/c) hair around it. You were just slipping on a jeweled bangle when our mom called you down stairs. You stepped down the stairs careful not to fall, you saw your mom standing in the middle with her back turned to you fixing her earing.

"Wow mom you make me feel underdressed," you stated with a smirk. Her (h/c) hair was jacked up and twisted into volumes curls. She was also wearing a curve hugging blue dress with seven inch heels.

"I want to make a good first impression," she winked and linked her arm through yours. The two of you hopped into the car and started driving down the dusty rode. The sun was just beginning to fade into the line of trees. Birds jumped off their perch's and into the sky, the grass fields swayed slowly in the distance a few cows looking up at you as the car passed.

There was no driveway to pull into so she parked on the lawn. You were astounded by how big the house was. It was a typical white with a huge front porch and windows. Your mom was already out of the car and halfway to the house when you were done ogling over the house. A few cowhands were putting up the equipment and giving cat calls towards your mom. You reluctantly stepped out of the car and made your way to the house with your head down not making eye contact with any of the men.

"Mom, I don't know if this was such a good idea," you whispered. She clucked her tongue, "Of course it was!" You swallowed a hard lump in your throat and kept quiet. It wasn't long till the two of you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Jones.

"Well aren't you two prettier than a wild flower in the winter! C'mon in," Mrs. Jones ushered the two of you in and onto her couch. The Jones house smelt of baked cookies with a house to match. The inside looked like a picture from Better Homes & Gardens. Pictures of her family were placed perfectly on the walls, vases were filled with daisies and the windows were up creating a comfortable breeze.

"You're home is nice Mrs. Jones," you saying what you thought. The lady chuckled, "Thank you very much darlin'! You can call me Martha." You nodded your head and returned your gaze back on the pictures. Most of them were pictures of a small boy with a nantucket and shining blue eyes. One of him holding up a small fish, another posing with a football helmet on his side.

Martha caught you staring at the pictures on the mantle, "That's Alfred, I don't have any recent pictures of him, but he should be meeting us for dinner. Maybe he can show you around later on."

You blushed, "T-Thanks." Right on cue Mr. Jones came in wiping his sweaty forehead. His boots creating a cloud of dust on the carpeted rug beneath them. "Phew, it's a hot one today!" he seemed a bit shock to see you and your mom sitting on his couch.

"George honey, go get ready dinner," Mrs. Jones kissed her husbands cheek and retreated back into the kitchen. George tipped his worn hat, "Ladies." You gave your mom a look, but she was just sitting there with a huge smile plastered on her face. It wasn't long till the four of you were around the dinner table. A platter of chicken was in the middle surrounded by mash potatoes, fried green beans, okra, and cream corn.

"Honey, where's Al?" Mrs. Jones asked while placing a napkin on her lap. Mr. Jones wiped his mouth and ran his finger through his gray hair, "I don't know.. I told to come in early since we have-" he was interrupted by a slamming door.

"Sorry! I know I'm late," the grown version of the boy you saw in the pictures came running in with a dusted jeans, white tank top, and smudged glasses. Mrs. Jones gave a sheepish smile and kissed her son on the cheek, "It's alright. These are our newest neighbors!" she gestured towards you and your mom.

You sat there speechless while you mom was shaking his hand. You had never seen such a gorgeous guy in your whole just wanted to run your hands through his wind blown sandy blonde hair and count the shades of blue in his eyes.

"...And this is my daughter," you snapped out of your daydream by a sharp elbow.

You stood up, hoping your blush wasn't to apparent, "(Name).."

"Alfred," he grasped your hand and smiled, your face heating up as he did so. Alfred than turned around and ran up the stairs to go take a quick shower. The adults continued mingling while waiting for the teen. You on the other hand, had nothing in common with what they were talking about.

_Just because there's one g-good looking guy in this town doesn't mean I still want to be here._

"Alright I'm here, let's get to eatin'." You jumped at the sound of the chair beside you scrapping against the ground. You could smell the cologne on Alfred and his shampoo. You peeked over at him, he was dressed in a clean white shirt and jeans.

"Not before grace son," Mr. Jones voice was serious. Everyone grabbed hands and bowed their heads to pray over dinner. Once the amen was pronounced everyone began digging into the fried chicken and vegetables.

You barely put any food on your plate, you didn't really like the food and you were to nervous to eat in the first place. Alfred must have noticed and began slopping the food all over your plate.

"I can still see your plate," he winked before spilling the green beans onto your plate.

"I don't really-" you were cut off by a fork filed with potatoes stuffed into your mouth. Alfred began to laugh as you chewed and swallowed the food. It wasn't too terribly bad, but it wasn't satisfying.

"So what do you like to do (Name)?" George asked while wiping his face with a napkin.

You were a bit surprised someone was talking to you, "I like to draw, paint, sketch. That sort of stuff, although I'm not very good at it." The table was silent, the sound of crunching skin was all that was to be heard. You took small bites of food to keep you occupied and from having to talk. Alfred was the one who was filling the awkwardness. You learned that he played every sport that the local high school had to offer, but his favorite was football deeming he was the quarterback. He also liked to fish regularly and ride horses.

"Yes sir' Alfred's shooting for a scholarship," Mr. Jones hooted before downing his beer. You weren't use to alcohol being present at meals, it was usually reserved for afterwards.

"I hope all of y'all still have room for dessert!" Martha cheered, "I made peach cobbler."

"I'm full," you patted your stomach, hoping they'd believe you.

"But you're as thin as a bean pole sweetheart!" Mrs. Jones objected. You gave a small smile but still rejected the dessert. You and your mom were the only one's who didn't eat dessert.

_Man, these people can eat! _

You noticed Alfred was on his third piece of cobbler. You gave a smirk, but turned your head when he noticed you were watching him. After the dishes were cleared everyone filed into the large living room and onto the couches. You were just waiting for this night to end.

"Y'know school starts back in a couple of weeks. Maybe Alfred here will show you 'round town before you're officially one of us," Mr. Jones smiled from his position in his leather recliner.

You didn't even get to say anything before your mom butted in, "That sounds fantastic! (Name would love that wouldn't you?"

You rubbed your arm with your thumb, "Yea... I'd love to." You gave a small smile not looking at Alfred who was staring intensely at you. Everyone began to cheer except you and Alfred.

_Great, he hates me now... I'm never going to make it here just like those mover guys said. I hate here. _

You and your mom made your farewells before getting into your car and leaving. You were happy to get back to the shack, and get some sleep.

Alfred closed the door and turned towards his father, "Why'd you do that? You're makin' me haul a city slicker aroun' here. We all know they don't want our friendship."

Mr. Jones gave a disapproving frown, "Their nice people, they just need some southern hospitality. I thought I raised you better than that son, never judge a cover by it's book." Alfred sighed, knowing his father was right and he better not argue. He was use to his father being overly generous to p=strangers, but he had never gone to these lengths at putting Alfred in the middle.

Mr. Jones patted his son on the back,"'And you never know. That city slicker just might be what you need, somethin' new."

**A/N: Hey you guys! I've been waiting to write this for sooo long, but I didn't know how it would turn out. So far so good... Sorry if the first couple of chapters are boring. They'll get better I promise ^^! Maybe you should listen to some country music while reading this I don't know :D.. Anyways.. **

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